To stand,
Inside opulent cathedrals
Built in ages long gone by
Made of stone and mortar,
And exotic marbles, from regions so far away from where they stand
Like a continental giant bringing their hands together to build a mountain
And just as much with the ego of their commisioner whose name they carry along with them
A mirror of their person and the times in which they lived
But what of the backs on which these grandiose symbols of power were really built on?
The ones who have been given the grave dishonour of being relegated to collective nouns
Who's names, barely mentioned, long forgotten and lost to time far sooner perhaps, than those they toiled under.
They have made these places sacred, by what it has taken to build them.
It is them then that these utterly beautiful symphonies of art, sciences and human ingenuity truly honour as they rage against the current of time so that we, eons later can be humbled in their presence
So let these very monuments laugh, laugh with everyone who found magnificent ways to eternally mock the pompous patrons in the work which they stick their name in, and be known for the souls of those who brought them to life.
